


Exhale

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, M/M, MWPP Era, Plot What Plot, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-26
Updated: 2005-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Remus and Sirius share a joint in the Shrieking Shack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhale

The smoke burns Remus' throat, scratching like he's swallowed glass, and through heavy-lidded eyes he watches it escape his mouth in soft clouds. It hangs in the air like a haze, a fog, and it rings Sirius' face in a halo of whiteish-grey.

Sirius smiles after he inhales, crooked and wicked. He holds out his hand, the spliff pinched tightly between his thumb and forefinger, and Remus' eyes narrow on where the end of the spliff is trying to hide under Sirius' thumbnail.

"No," Remus says.

"Balls," Sirius replies, and the word is as slow as the smoke curling out of his mouth.

Sirius puts the spliff back up to his lips, his cheeks hollowing. His eyes flutter open and closed, half-hidden by tendrils of smoke, and with a quiet laugh he leans forward and offers the spliff to Remus again.

"No, Sirius."

"Yes," Sirius says, his voice grave for its slurring. He lifts himself off the floor, stumbling forward on his hands and knees, the spliff held safely over his head.

"I've had enough," Remus says. He feels leaden, weighted, and the sounds of the Shack settling around them are overloud in his ears.

"Haven't," Sirius insists. "I've had twice as much as you."

You always do, Remus thinks. You and James. You. And James. But there's no James anymore, because of Evans, and Peter never could keep up.

Sirius leans forward, his hand finding purchase on Remus' leg in a fistful of Remus' trousers, and he lifts the spliff to Remus' mouth, his finger catching on Remus' lower lip. Remus sways away from it, laughing, and falls back onto his elbows.

His head hits the floor. The wood is rough and dusty under his fingers, and Sirius, half on top of him, is heavy. Sirius snuffles at Remus' face like Padfoot, and the spliff is right under his nose, the ember orange and hot. He shakes his head, but Sirius mumbles please against his neck.

The spliff is wet at the end and the thin, wrinkled paper sticks to his fingers, his lips. He closes his eyes, inhales, and tastes Sirius.

"Thank you," Sirius mumbles.

He pries the spliff from Remus' fingers and snuffs it out on the floor. Remus exhales, his chest tight and his throat raw, and he tastes Sirius again, this time from Sirius' mouth.

Remus melts into the kiss at first, ghosting a hand up Sirius' shoulder to his hair. Sirius licks at his lips, his tongue hot and slick, and as it pushes inside, stroking against Remus', it burrows through the numbness blanketing Remus' body.

His brain his fogged, hazy, but he knows enough to pull away. He's not James, and this is not what Sirius wants.

"Sirius."

Sirius just kisses him again, harder, and slips a warm hand under his shirt.

"Why?" Remus asks, breathless, his lips brushing against Sirius' as he speaks.

"I want to," Sirius says simply.

His hand skitters up Remus' chest like a spider, just fingertips, and Remus shivers, feels pins and needles chase each other across his skin. Sirius' mouth returns, sliding over his jaw, his neck, and Remus struggles against the noise building in his scratchy, smoke-worn throat.

"I thought you. And James," Remus rasps.

Sirius pulls back slowly and meets Remus' gaze. His eyes are heavy, sleepy, but they glitter like silver in the slice of moonlight through the window.

"No. Not James," Sirius says. He pushes himself up, swaying, and tugs at Remus' shirt. His fingers catch on the buttons, fumbling them through the holes. "You."

Sirius is staring again, and his eyes, still sleepy, still heavy, are intent, burning like the ash-end of the spliff. Remus still thinks James, but Sirius leans close, his breath humid-hot against Remus' chin, his eyelashes fluttering butterfly soft over Remus' cheek.

"You, Moony," Sirius insists. "You."

Sirius kisses him, and Remus allows it, his mouth falling open easily against the slippery onslaught of Sirius' tongue. Sirius' teeth catch Remus' lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, and the moan Remus has been trying to swallow escapes, throaty and hoarse.

Remus thinks somewhere, somehow, he'll end up hurt by this, end up with his heart in Sirius' hands and his feelings at Sirius' feet, but he lets the fog in his brain wrap around his worries, lets Sirius hide them under the hands on his skin.

Sirius shifts fully on top of Remus, heavy and solid, pinning Remus to the floor, their legs a confusing jumble of long, lanky limbs and shoved-down trousers. Sirius' cock is hard against his hip, hot without the barrier of cloth, and he presses into Remus, growling Moony against his neck.

Their hands collide between them, fingers knotting and tangling around each other before slipping sweat-slick over heated, fevered skin. Remus finds Sirius' cock first, hot and hard, and a hitched breath later Sirius finds his, sliding it into the curve of his palm.

Warmth builds inside Remus slowly, curling through his body like the smoke hanging in the air, something distant and muted that Remus can't quite reach. He arches up against Sirius' weight, wanting more, half-choked moans stumbling between his lips as he tries to thrust into Sirius' hand.

Sirius kisses him, soft noises tumbling into Remus' mouth, and twists his wrist, stroking up hard. Remus comes, gasping, the pleasure bright and sharp through the haze, and Sirius follows almost immediately, with a rush of heat that spills over Remus' fingers and onto his belly.

Maybe not James, Remus thinks, as Sirius' lips blaze a wet, lazy trail up his neck. He pauses when he reaches Remus' mouth, coaxing him into a slow, liquid tangle of a kiss, and he smiles as he pulls away.

Sirius moves off Remus long enough to find his wand, and the squashed remains of the spliff. He casts the cleansing charms quickly, with a voice that's raw and hoarse, but he's careful with the spliff, straightening it with gentle, patient fingers.

He lights it with a spark from his wand, taking a long, slow hit that makes the tip flare bright and orange.

"You, not James," Sirius says.

Sirius smiles, holds out the spliff, and Remus breathes.


End file.
